My father was shaving. I was standing in the hallway. He looked out from the bathroom, razor in hand, foam on his face, and said: By the way, you're Jewish . Then he continued to shave. Kyiv. Late 1980s. I was nine years old. I had never heard this word before. Where am I Jewish? What part of me? I didn't ask. He didn't explain. The moment passed like a small strange bird through an open window. I am still trying to understand where it landed. Years later I made a play about

Q) Hello Igor. Thanks for taking the time to answer some questions today. Before we begin, please could you introduce yourself and tell us a little bit about your background as a theatre director and what it was about theatre that inspired you to make this your career? Thank you for having me. I am Igor Golyak, and like many who came of age in the former Soviet Union, theatre was not simply a career choice—it was a necessity, a breath. I was born in Kyiv, trained at the Russi

There's this recording I stumbled upon recently—Georgy Tovstonogov speaking to a crowd sometime in the Soviet era, his voice crackling...

My dear ones, Tonight, after rehearsing "The Wanderers," I write to you from an empty theatre that still holds the echo of snow falling....